I have many completely irrational fears stemming from my childhood normal twenty-something fears, some with known origins, others not.
I usually try to hide my neuroses from my friends, mostly because I am scared that they will no longer associate with me if they were to know all of them. The close friends know all of my fears, mostly because they have had the great [dis]pleasure of being with me during a time when I launch into a completely unprovoked panic attack. Luckily, they have chosen to stick around, and in doing so, have earned the right to mock/laugh at/share my fears whenever they feel appropriate.
(Most of) my fears, in order of intensity, besides my fear of being home alone at night...
My fear of shark attacks. One may directly correlate my fear of sharks with my attempt at learning to surf. Instead of the more popular “look, surfing is fun!” teaching method, my surf tutors went with the less acceptable “for every wave you miss, there is a giant Great White Shark waiting to eat you behind it” route. Granted, my surf tutors were actually no tutors at all, but rather the neighborhood kids, but this combined with a dead shark that washed up on our beach that same summer was a strong enough case for me to believe that it wasn’t if I was to be attacked by a shark, but rather when. I think my having to pass a rip current test before being allowed to swim alone in the ocean also aided to my fear of being kidnapped by the sea. My parents made sure to teach us that the ocean was much more powerful than we were. Me being the anxious kid I am was, I obviously took that to the extreme.
My fear of driving over bridges over water. This fear comes from a youth group mission trip down south where, when en route, I saw my life flash before my eyes while our bus appeared to be hanging over a New York bridge, with our next stop being in the Hudson River. Also, American infrastructure is a mess. Bridges are collapsing everywhere, and you better believe that I won’t be on one when it decides to fall. If I am, I will already be holding my breath in preparation for a swim a la survival. Speaking of holding my breath as a way of preventing my fears from coming true, I also use this tactic in…
My fear of flying, specifically take off and landing. Did you know that approximately 80% of all aircraft accidents occur shortly before or during take-off and landing? Well, now you do, and you also now know why I insist in reciting the Lord’s Prayer repetitively throughout take off and landing while also holding my breath. I do so until we are either safely in the air, or on the ground. I figure that if my flights have been incident free for twenty something years, I must be doing something right. You are welcome, fellow passengers.
My fear of burglars attacking me when I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I attribute this fear to my peeing with the bathroom door open to this day as a young child, only to have to slam it shut when someone began walking up from the basement. This then carried over to my mid-night bathroom trips, where I would still pee with the door open, only now the people that I was scared about seeing me pee magically change into felons who want to kill me, mid-pee. I know, I had quite the imagination as a child.
My fear of boa constructors living under the mattress of my bed, and killing me in my sleep. Yes, this is an actual fear, and before I completely lose your readership to my insanity, allow me to explain. When I was a kid, my cousin’s pet boa constructor went missing. Let’s completely skip over the fact that someone related to me would have a boa constructor as a pet. Snakes are not pets, they are snakes. You cannot pet them, or snuggle with them, or teach them tricks. They can kill you. That is not trait I want any pet of mine to have. I attributed their odd pet to the fact that they lived in California. Pause, I have digressed. Anywho, the snake went missing and stayed missing for weeks. When my cousin went to the pet store to ask about the dangers in losing a boa constructor, Pet Store Guy told them that the snake would surface once it was hungry. Great, just how I like my deadly pets: hungry and on the prowl for prey. At any rate, the snake did eventually surface…my cousin found it when it was slithering up his bed in the middle of the night. Turns out, the space between a mattress and a boxspring is a pretty comfortable place for a gigantic snake to hibernate between feedings. At this time, my favorite book was Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends." His poem "Boa Constructor" only added to my complete and utter fear of going to bed. You would have thought that I would have avoided all books even eluding to any sort of snake, nevermind an entire poem dedicated to a person being eaten by a boa constructor. At any rate, in order for me to even consider getting into bed, there had to be an intense boa constructor search in/on/under/surrounding my bed. I also needed to have Smudge [my cat-dog, may he rest in peace] with me as I fell asleep, so if I surprise-attacked by a boa constructor, Smudge would protect me.
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